Through The Eyes of a Stranger
by Maddie
Summary: Epilogue for episode "The Host". Riker deals with the emotional aftermath of hosting the Trill symbiote Odan.


**_Title: _**Through The Eye Of A Stranger 1/1  
**_Author: _**Maddie  
**_Rating: K+_**  
**_Category: _**Angst, implied Riker/Troi  
**_Disclaimer: _**Paramount owns them all...the ship, the crew and the universe, but...the plot belongs to me.  
**_Archiving: _**Yes, but only with permission from author. My stories are like my children. I like to know where they end up spending the night.  
**_Feedback: _**Always welcome  
**_Summary: _**Episode tag for _The Host, _in which Riker must deal with the emotional fallout after hosting the Trill symbiote, Odan.

(Episode summary: This is the episode that originally introduced the Trill. Briefly, Dr Crusher falls in love with a Trill ambassador, Odan, who is aboard the _Enterprise_ to negotiate a treaty. When the host body is severely injured it becomes necessary to remove the symbiote. Unfortunately, they are unable to sustain the symbiote without a host and the nearest Trill is too far away. Commander Riker volunteers to be host until a suitable Trill can be found. Hosting the symbiote takes a physical toll on the commander, as well as an emotional one on both he and Crusher. However, the treaty is successfully negotiated and a new Trill host found before Riker succumbs to the physical stress.)

**_Author's notes: _**This story was originally published in hard copy by Orion Press in their Star Trek: The Next Generation fanzine _Eridani 15_ (1991).

_**Through the Eyes of a Stranger**_

By, Maddie

Leaning his forearm against its supporting framework, Will Riker's face was inches from the transparent observation port. He had intended on looking out at the stars, but instead he found himself staring into his own eyes reflected in the polished surface. A few days ago, he had seen his face through the eyes of a stranger, and it had been a disquieting experience. Everything familiar had become foreign, and though he looked now, at his own face, with his own consciousness, some of the uneasiness remained.

He wondered if he should mention the disjointed feeling to Deanna, or simply wait and see if it passed. It probably would pass, as soon as he was back on duty and busy enough to relegate the sensation to the back of his mind where it belonged. He had had too much time to think about it in the past few days.

Suddenly concerned that someone might observe his apprehension, he straightened and glanced self-consciously up and down the quiet corridor. The passageway was uniformly lit and completely deserted. The air was cool, and the stars shimmered in the blackness outside, streaking trails of light and pulsating with energy as they slid past the warp driven vessel.

Although it was the middle of what would normally be his sleep cycle, Riker could not sleep. So, he had been walking, somewhat aimlessly, for over half an hour, not thinking of where he was going, just marking time. Eventually, he had come here, to the outer rim of the starship's saucer-shaped hull. Perhaps, because of the view, he thought absently. No space traveler, seasoned or not, could deny that it was a spectacular one. Only the vastness of the galaxy class starships could accommodate such a broad expanse of space's glorious vista from so many points of the ship, as though the designers were trying to capture the heavens within the hull of the great vessel. Or, perhaps, they meant to remind wandering first officers that there were mysteries and depths in the cosmos man might never encompass with his most massive engineering accomplishments, or comprehend within the confines of his own awareness. Whatever, Riker thought pragmatically, it's damn beautiful.

Leaning his shoulder against the bulkhead again, he was momentarily lost in the breathless view. Idly, he scratched at the itchy spot on his stomach. Suture less, laser incisions were not supposed to itch. The casual action brought him back to the present, to the restlessness that had driven him to prowl the quiet corridors of the Enterprise's night. He ran his hand slowly along the muscles of his abdomen, half expecting to feel movement—but, of course, he could not. It had been over seventy-two hours since Doctor Crusher had removed the symbiotic being who was Ambassador Odan from his body. He had spent most of the following seventy-two hours in recovery, then in his quarters resting under doctor's orders not to move. But there was no reason for him to remain in bed any longer. Although the strain of hosting Odan had taxed his system to the limit, bringing him near death, he had begun to recover as soon as the ambassador had been removed, and after another physical in the morning, he hoped to return to duty. In the meantime, he had rested enough in the past three days to last him for a while and he found himself unable to sleep.

Drawing himself to his full height, Riker resumed his walk, making a conscious effort to slow his usual long-legged, ground eating pace to a sensible stroll. At the same time, he tried to relax his shoulders, which felt too stiff. After all, he was not in a hurry to get anywhere and he did not want to appear as though he were stalking some unseen enemy. Running away from ghosts would be a better description anyway, he told himself.

At the next computer terminal he keyed in his access code and spoke softly, "Computer, locate Deanna Troi."

"Counselor Troi is in Ten Forward," the machine responded.

Riker began to walk again. Ten Forward was not that far from his present location, but he was not certain he was ready to talk to Deanna yet, though it might be exactly what he needed. He knew she had come to visit him in sickbay immediately after surgery, but he had been too exhausted and muddled by medication to talk. He had sensed her presence, been grateful for it, but since then she had kept her distance more so than usual.

Whether he intended to come or not, he found himself standing before the doors of Ten Forward. Taking a deep breath, and feeling like an errant schoolboy off to see the headmaster, he stepped through the doors. As they swished closed behind him, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the subdued light.

"Welcome, Commander Riker. It's good to see you up and about again," said a soft voice to his left.

As he turned, Guinan nodded her greeting, the broad brim of her headdress flopping gently with the movement.

"Can I get you something, Commander?"

Riker paused. He really didn't want a drink. Shaking his head, he studied her with mock intensity before he asked, "Don't you ever go home?"

The enigmatic hostess shrugged, and smiled her knowing smile.

Riker turned to survey the darkened lounge. The place was almost deserted, then he saw who he was searching for and experienced an alarming rush of deja vu.

"You aren't the only one who couldn't sleep," Guinan said.

"It appears so," Riker agreed. He stood next to the bar wondering if it might not be better to leave. He did not want to disturb them, yet the scene was hauntingly familiar. Their two heads, one dark as night and the other the color of flame, bent together in earnest, private conversation. It was odd. He had never really tried to characterize the color of Beverly Crusher's hair until now. Having decided it was best to leave, he was about to slip away when Troi looked up. Catching his eye as she peered over Doctor Crusher's shoulder, she acknowledged his presence with a slight nod of her head, inviting him wordlessly to stay. Riker knew he would not leave without talking to her. He needed talk to her.

Beverly Crusher rose, spoke softly to Troi, then walked away from the table the two women shared, exiting from the far hatchway. She pointedly avoided the door near which Riker stood, though it was nearest to their table.

Riker walked over to where Troi sat. She toyed with a glass, swirling a few chips of ice and studying them as though reading some mystic message. Riker eased himself into the chair the doctor had vacated, stretching his long legs. He had thought he had regained his normal strength, but the exertion of walking tired him more than he expected. He waited quietly. It was a natural silence, born of familiarity and he savored the relaxed air of the moment. Such moments were rare. Reaching out, he gently touched Troi's hand. As her fingers curled tightly around his, she looked up, her dark eyes thoughtful.

"She's avoiding me," Riker said, leaning his head in the direction Beverly Crusher had taken when she left.

"Understandably so," Troi agreed. "She loved Odan very much."

"I know," Riker said firmly. "When I volunteered to host Odan, I was thinking of the peace mission at Palee Azel. I didn't mean to complicate her life or her relationship with the ambassador."

"The complication was none of your doing.'

Riker nodded. "The ambassador stopped to see me before he—or she—or they disembarked."

"Don't misunderstand Beverly's actions, Will," Troi went on, squeezing his hand with her delicate one. "She is grateful for the time and happiness she had with Odan, however brief. And she appreciates the risk you took to preserve his life, but it is difficult for her to accept that he could physically change so drastically. She is having trouble coming to terms with what part of him she really loved. And..." Troi hesitated, withdrawing her hand from his and leaning back in her chair, "...she's somewhat embarrassed."

"Was I that bad?" Riker asked jokingly, smiling and enjoying the reflection of that smile he saw on Troi's face. To his surprise, she flushed slightly.

"That's not the point, Will. She just never thought of you as—"

"--a lover?"

"Yes. And now she's not sure what you think or how much you remember."

Riker crossed his arms on his chest. "I remember it all, Deanna. But, it was as though I were a long way away, watching, unable to react or control the situation. What I felt were Odan's emotions and his passion. I could understand his desire, but half of me was thinking it wasn't comfortable." Like looking in a mirror and seeing your own face, but knowing, at the same time, it was the wrong face. Riker did not voice his last nagging thought, but dropped into a disconcerted silence— wondering how to fit words to his fleeting impressions.

"The experience has left Beverly feeling ambivalent also," Troi continued, reading, the apprehension he struggled so hard to conceal from her. "You have become part of a memory she will always treasure, but which will cause pain. Although the spirit she loved was Odan's, the body was—"

"Mine," Riker finished her sentence again. Looking into Troi's dark eyes, he saw a troubled look. "And how do you feel, Deanna." She's not the first woman I've been with since we parted on the Yorktown, but she is the first one who's been a comrade of yours as well, he thought.

The beautiful Betazoid glanced down at her glass, the ice had melted into a thin film of water.

"You've been avoiding me, too, Deanna, since I got out of Sickbay."

"I've been busy. Beverly needed someone to confide in and since I'd been with her through this, I—"

"I asked how you felt."

"Isn't that _my_ job?" she responded, leaning forward with her arms on the table, staring at him intently.

"Usually, but I'm not talking professionally. I'm talking to Deanna Troi. Someone I care about."

"Will, I did my duty as counselor, and as Beverly's friend. She needed to explore her emotions and discover exactly how she felt about Odan—both spiritually and physically. Even If that resulted in going to bed with...you." Troi turned the glass in her hands, an uncharacteristically nervous gesture from the normally well-composed and confident counselor. "I had to convince myself that you were Odan, not Will Riker. Just as she did."

Riker sat quietly, waiting. "And did it work?" he asked when she failed to continue.

Troi smiled ruefully. "Not very well. Will, I—it hurt."

They've all hurt you, he thought, all the women I've been involved with, however casualty, since we parted years ago. Something he never wanted to do, but knew he had.

"None of your past loves were friends of mine," Troi retorted vehemently, catching his unguarded thought, "and I never told them it was all right. This time, Beverly was my friend, too, and I gave her permission." Her voice softened. "And still, I found myself feeling jealous." Shaking back her dark hair, Troi looked Riker straight in the eye, ignoring her own anger and striking at the heart of his dilemma. "And you, Will, you said you remembered everything. You must have some emotional response to what happened, yet you've been as closed to me as I've ever known you to be."

Riker recognized Troi's professional counselor tone. He would have preferred to talk to Deanna, the woman he loved, but he realized she wasn't going to let him yet. He took a deep breath, as she watched him intently. "It's unsettling," he said, "to look at everyone and everything you've known for years through the eyes of a stranger. Everything is as it should be, yet everything is wrong."

"And you feel..." Troi persisted, more gently.

"Out of sync. But that isn't as important to me as knowing that you understand. What happened between Beverly and me was not what I intended. The peace mission went well, and Odan negotiated a viable treaty. If I helped in some way to prevent a war, then I accomplished what I set out to do and I'm proud of that. If there is anything I can do to make Beverly feel better, I'll do it." But I don't want to hurt you in the process, he added silently.

"Beverly is going to be fine, Will." Troi's voice and manner were once more calm. "She's very unhappy now, and confused, but she will bounce back, as will you. Once you are back on duty you will begin to put everything in perspective. Odan is gone."

"But not soon to be forgotten."

"By any of us," Troi concluded softly, lowering her eyes from Riker's steady scrutiny.

They sat together for several minutes, staring out of the forward viewport. For the briefest instant, Riker glanced at his own reflection, and for the first time in days, felt as though he was in sole possession of his body. If time did heal all wounds, maybe someday, it would even heal the wounded hearts left by their separation years ago. Then, her proud, aristocratic, Betazoid heritage had come crashing head-to-head with his ambition and his Terran bullheadedness. Neither of them had had the courage or the experience to know it was time to compromise. One day soon, he was going to sit her down, and they were going to stop avoiding the pain. Until then, until they confronted their own past mistakes, there would only be stolen glances and moments such as this. Reaching out, he slipped his hand under Troi's chin and raised her head so she was looking at him, and he smiled. He rose, extended his arm to her and said, "I'll walk you back to your quarters. It's late, and I have an early morning appointment with the good doctor."

Smiling, Troi stood and took his arm, sliding her slender hand into his large one.

Riker found the action comforting and comfortable. There was only one woman on the Enterprise, perhaps in the galaxy, who made him feel that way. Only one who was really important, and someday he was going to let her know, though he suspected she already knew.

**_The_** **_End_**


End file.
